


comprehension

by shuurima



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Amnesia, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Backstories, Depression, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teacher-Student Relationship, adjusted to be more sensical, background beauyasha, background fjorjester, mostly caleb re:parents, none of the characters die in this fic i can tell u that RIGHT NOW, some ages are close to canon but others have been adjusted, we are handling this relationship like professionals i swear. no weird gross power dynamics!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuurima/pseuds/shuurima
Summary: Caleb understood what it meant, of course; after teaching for several years, he could now easily decipher messages that were sent just before the 2:00 AM deadline. He could have brushed it off as late night writing and drowsiness… If it weren’t for the identical state of the paper attached.It was absolutely horrendous.According to legend, Mollymauk Tealeaf had taken four shots at Literature 301 so far, and failed each time. This is the first time he had been enrolled in Caleb’s version of the course - now a last resort, as he had exhausted all the other teachers.





	comprehension

**Author's Note:**

> aka a completely self indulgent AU full of comedy & fluff & romance to soothe the wounds we've been dealt. this was based off a roleplay thread between myself and my lovely friend Evna, who is both collaboratively writing and beta-reading for me!! she is currently in the process of getting an ao3 account, and she will be added as a co-writer when that happens; hopefully that will explain some of the stylistic differences between certain chapters! 
> 
> please see the End Notes for AU background info!

_Well, this will just_ **_have_ ** _to do, Mollymauk._

 

The light from the screen before him was nearly blinding, the glare harsh and strikingly artificial against the pitch black surroundings of the small room. There are no longer coherent words on the document before him, only swirling letters- now, he knows he has _actually written_ words, but they no longer make sense to his strained eyes, which refuse to stay focused for more than a few seconds at a time. He slides his hands away from the clunky keys that rest beneath them, rotating his wrists in slow circles- _one, two, three_ \- wincing. The combination of the sharp pops and clicks that emanate from his joints do nothing to comfort him, or to distract from the deep burn in the tendons stretching over his knuckles. Sighing, Mollymauk shifts to press the heel of his hands against his eyes, trying in vain to relieve some of the pressure in his head.

 

He had five minutes to get this paper in. It was technically- _although barely_ \- at the minimum required length, and, if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t proofread it any more if he **wanted** to with the way his eyes, head, and hands were all screaming at him in defiance.

 

_It’s the first paper- just the first of the semester! There’s no way this professor could be expecting fucking top-tier work from his students already, that’s just bloody unfair- and if it turns out he is, well….there’s an add-drop period for a reason, right? I can make it up later. Yeah. Yeah. We’re done here._

 

Molly’s fingers move back to the keys and fly with renewed vigor as he manages to open his email, attach this _goddamn stupid paper_ , and get it sent in the time it takes him to convince himself that maybe, _just maybe_ , this wouldn’t be the colossal wreck he already knows it is. He has half a mind to just write ‘sorry’ in the tagline of the email, but manages to control himself and send it without any commentary aside from the usual “professional pleasantries” that he parrots into nearly every email as per Yasha’s instruction;

 

> Dear Professor,
> 
> Here is (enter assignment name here), due on (date).
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> _Mollymauk Tealeaf_
> 
> _(Course Title)._

 

Easy as ever. _Nailed it._

 

He closes his ancient laptop with enough force that, had it been even _close_ to a modern model, may have concerned him in regards to the screen. But this thing was practically a brick, a _boulder_ that whirred as loud as an air conditioner if he opened more than one tab at a time. It is shoved unceremoniously under the bed, knocking against the various other boxes stored there. That is where the wretched thing lives now,  since the desk and dresser crammed into his small studio are draped with fabric and covered in baubles and candles- leaving no room for anything productive to lay on the aged wood as intended.

 

The only thing presently keeping him sane is the fact that he will not be _going_ to Literature 301 tomorrow morning, and so, he could put off thoughts of this assignment until Tuesday at the very least- and that was with the bold assumption that he’d even bother to show up _then_. Given that it’s only Thursd- shit- Friday morning now, he can force it out of his mind for at least the weekend if he sticks to plan. Granted, he has another class with the same professor tomorrow- _today-_  but there’s absolutely no way that the poor sod would even look at the submissions until the weekend. After all, he was probably asleep this late at night, and had an entirely separate class to prepare for tomorrow afternoon. And even _if,_ for some reason,  this professor _did_ decide to start looking at the assignments, Molly’s would likely be at the bottom of the stack, what with being handed in this close to the deadline. He doesn’t have to worry about it. Hell, he _refuses_ to worry about it!

 

What he does have to do, however, is sleep, and _soon_.

 

For a moment, he entertains the thought of just passing out right where he’s situated amongst the unnecessary amount of pillows that adorn his bed- but he knows full well that he will not wake up a _second_ earlier than _absolutely necessary_ to get to his afternoon film class, which leaves him approximately no time to shower. And that, frankly, was unacceptable. Mollymauk Tealeaf may have hated going to most of his classes- but he sure as _hell_ would look good as he suffered.

 

When he moves to pull himself out of bed, it feels as if he has a backpack of rocks strapped to his shoulders. He lets out a frankly guttural and _unsettling_ noise of frustration, and is momentarily glad no one was around to witness it, as he drags himself to the bathroom and runs the water near-scalding, the way he likes it.

A short fifteen minutes later and Molly is falling, bone tired, into his bed- naked and honestly, not even fully dried off. He can feel the moisture from his tied up hair seeping into the pillow, but he does not care- he can just grab another, he’s got plenty to spare.  
  
It only takes him a few moments to fall asleep tonight, thankfully.

 

Must have been all the writing.

 

* * *

 

 

Professor Caleb Widogast was content with his career. His students respected him, and the classes he taught were enjoyable; some basic English classes with a hint of history occasionally thrown in. The department head - Bryce Feelid - seemed to favor him, and occasionally he was allowed to teach an obscure elective in film or anthropology.  
  
Currently, he sits at his front desk while his _History of Film_ class watches Jaws.  Engrossed by the papers that sit before him, all he can muster from the class is their timely reactions to the film. He reads through the stack, his brown speckled glasses sliding far down his nose as he does so. Most seem to laugh and mock at the animatronic shark, but he hears the shifting as a select few jolt in their seats from fear, causing a ripple in the sea of desks and chairs. The art of the film truly lies in how well it holds up to modern cinema - even with questionable sharks, the cinematic elements and suspense hold strong. Caleb shakes off the thought and focuses back on his work.

 

For Caleb, it is easier to grade by hand than it is to do so behind the glaring computer screen, even though it requires much more preparation. On the mornings when assignments are due, he compiles them all into a neat document and takes the time to print and staple each one as required. He could just have the students bring in the assignments themselves, but that would mean they would have to spend _print credits,_ and he would rather just not deal with the complaints whatsoever. So, as his students watch Jaws, he sorts through each one of the _Literature_ students' papers with the swift mark of a red colored pen. And yet, despite his attempts to focus, his thoughts once again begin to wander as his eyes scan the pages beneath him in a nearly robotic way. His mind plays back his morning routine; shower, coffee, checking his email- oh, what a treat _that_ had been.

 

The e-mails he usually receives are conducted in ways that are far too professional, and often laced with the students’ fear of not knowing how to approach writing a simple note to their professor. Occasionally, though, there is a dud; something all in lowercase, with the usage of such informal language that it makes him laugh. However, this morning he had opened the strangest e-mail to date:

 

> Prosefor,
> 
> here is the asssignment due thsi week.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank,
> 
> Mollymauk Tealeaf
> 
> Literture 301
> 
>  

Caleb understood what it meant, of course; after teaching for several years, he could now easily decipher messages that were sent just before the 2:00 AM deadline. He could have brushed it off as late night writing and drowsiness… If it weren’t for the identical state of the paper attached.

 

It was _absolutely_ _horrendous_.

 

According to legend, Mollymauk Tealeaf had taken four shots at Literature 301 so far, and failed each time. This is the first time he had been enrolled in Caleb’s version of the course - now a last resort, as he had exhausted all the other teachers. They had warned him of Tealeaf’s laziness, lack of respect for the classroom, and uncanny ability to surpass double the amount of recommended absences. So, Caleb had been keeping an eye on him - as much as possible, anyway. It is only the second week of classes, and Mollymauk had already been absent quite a bit. He looks at the nearly indiscernible paper and brings his glasses up into his hair. Glances at his attendance sheet. Sighs. Correction: it is the second week of classes and Mollymauk Tealeaf was absent a _grand total_ of three times in Literature (including today, and there had only been four classes thus far) and had perfect attendance for History of Film, with the exception of this afternoon. The two classes were held on the same days of the week, one shortly right after the other. He taps the pen on the desk, leaving stray marks of red on Mollymauk’s already riddled paper.

 

Caleb wasn’t dense, he knew that History of Film was a far more enjoyable class than Literature. He knew that people took his classes thinking that he was a young, cool teacher. But Caleb has never been “cool” in his whole life, not even as a teenager- _especially_ not as a teenager. Caleb liked rules and structure, even if sometimes that was according to his own methods and guidelines. As long as his students were learning and took even the smallest thing away from his lectures, that was enough.

 

Turning to his computer, Caleb types out an e-mail to respond to Mollymauk’s complete and utter _mess_.

 

 

> Mollymauk -
> 
> Please visit my office at your earliest convenience.
> 
> We need to talk about this paper and your attendance record.
> 
>  
> 
> Regards,
> 
> “Prosefor” Widogast

**Author's Note:**

> we really tried, y'all. 
> 
> now some background for this AU:
> 
> Nott is somewhere ambiguously in her early thirties- definitely at least a bit older than Caleb, and so was protective of him, but not by much. Somewhere around 33, maybe. However, she didn't finish off the whole college thing, though her and Caleb are still trusted friends. 
> 
> Caleb is 30, and in the interest of keeping close to his canon backstory, was a sort-of child prodigy and skipped a bunch of grades, as well as double majored. There's a more detailed timeline of when he graduated and when he got which degrees in my notes, which I can post if people are confused or interested in, but I promise we did the math!
> 
> Molly is 27, having gone to college later than most (due to The Accident....), and having trouble graduating once he got there. 
> 
> Yasha is the same age, give or take a year, but enrolled and graduated on time. She is no longer a student, but she still lives near campus and hangs around to spend time with Molly & the gang.
> 
> Fjord is around 25, and is a first-year grad student. He enrolled and got his first degree on time, but took a year off to travel and sail before coming back to school. He and Jester both work for Resident Life.
> 
> Jester and Beau are both seniors, and are about 22-23 respectively. As stated, Jester is a Resident Assistant, and Beau is known around campus for being a general rule-breaking menace. 
> 
> Frumpkin is around 9 and living his best life as Caleb's emotional support animal.
> 
> Content note: Molly's struggles with his language-based classes are directly connected to the injuries in his backstory (which will be expanded on later), and I researched to the best of my ability in order to find out what *actually* can happen when you sustain a decent head injury. That being said, if there's anything that I say that is inaccurate, wrong, or misplaced- please do not be afraid to (politely) point it out to me in the comments! I want to do my best to portray medical conditions that I'm not familiar with in an accurate light. <3
> 
> kudos & comments are always appreciated! and one last big thank you to Evna who i can't tag yet due to the waiting period here on ao3 ;n;
> 
> as always, hit me up on tumblr (@shuurima) or discord (cirr#8832) with inquiries, comments, questions, or just generally to chat!


End file.
